I first sensed that Julie might be miffed at me when I came home from work to find "Burn in Hell, You Bitch" scrawled in what I sincerely hoped was brown marker. Also, broken glass and the shattered remains of my Grandma's antique china littered the floor. Never a good sign. The couch was partially charred but it appeared she had doused the flames with purple Kool Aid before it got too out of hand. I really knew I was in trouble, though, when I saw the severed head of Nathaniel, the stuffed dog that had been closest companion in childhood. Poor Nathaniel's head lay on the floor next to Julie, where she sat cross-legged on the floor, calmly smoking a cigarette. His body was nowhere to be seen.
"A couple of things," she said. "First, and not to alarm you here, I think I have an anger problem. Secondly, please stop using my shampoo."
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Friday, November 18, 2011
#fridayflash The Prankster's Apology
I didn't aim to become a supervillain. I just wanted to take that Mr. Fantastic down a peg or two and it just so happened that my powers of invisibility allowed me the means and the opportunity to achieve my motives. For whatever reason, I just couldn't stand that self-satisfied, smug look he had on the nightly news when he was interviewed for nabbing another cat burglar or pickpocket. Maybe it was because my old man did the same thing every night for thirty years and he never once got on the news, but I guess superhuman speed gets better ratings.
I started out small, just enough to annoy the guy. Itching powder in his stupid looking spandex tights, prank calls to his Mr. Fantastic Hotline, tying his shoe laces together while he was staking out a meth lab, nothing major. That last one had me laughing so hard I accidentally went visible. If you'd seen that cocky mug of his hit the dirt at super speed, you would have laughed too. After he spotted me, I figured the jig was up and that would be the end of my little jokes. He obviously didn't have a sense of humor, or a sense of perspective for that matter, because he tracked me back to my “lair” (my rent-controlled one bedroom apartment on the bad side of town) and challenged me to fight him man to man. I tried to explain that I was just having a laugh, but he swore he would have his revenge and stormed out with a melodramatic flip of his cape.
He publicly declared me his arch-nemesis and gave me the name The Prankster. If I'd have known I was going to get stuck with something so obvious and unoriginal I would have come up with my own supervillain name. But like I said, I wasn't aiming to be anybody's arch-nemesis. He stopped catching criminals and focused on “bringing me to justice.” I don't know how things escalated so quickly, but before I knew it I was kidnapping his girlfriend and constructing death rays. Its silly, I know, but once the gauntlet was thrown, I couldn't back down. Its the Irish in me.
I stand before you today not as a supervillain, but as the son of a cop who somehow wound up on the wrong side of the law. I know it was wrong to contaminate the city's water supply, but in my defense I never meant to kill anybody. I just wanted everybody to lighten up. Things just got so weird and dark, I figured we could all go for a laugh. I guess I got the recipe wrong or added too much and for that I'm sorry. I throw myself on the mercy of the court. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, all I ask is for a little understanding.
I started out small, just enough to annoy the guy. Itching powder in his stupid looking spandex tights, prank calls to his Mr. Fantastic Hotline, tying his shoe laces together while he was staking out a meth lab, nothing major. That last one had me laughing so hard I accidentally went visible. If you'd seen that cocky mug of his hit the dirt at super speed, you would have laughed too. After he spotted me, I figured the jig was up and that would be the end of my little jokes. He obviously didn't have a sense of humor, or a sense of perspective for that matter, because he tracked me back to my “lair” (my rent-controlled one bedroom apartment on the bad side of town) and challenged me to fight him man to man. I tried to explain that I was just having a laugh, but he swore he would have his revenge and stormed out with a melodramatic flip of his cape.
He publicly declared me his arch-nemesis and gave me the name The Prankster. If I'd have known I was going to get stuck with something so obvious and unoriginal I would have come up with my own supervillain name. But like I said, I wasn't aiming to be anybody's arch-nemesis. He stopped catching criminals and focused on “bringing me to justice.” I don't know how things escalated so quickly, but before I knew it I was kidnapping his girlfriend and constructing death rays. Its silly, I know, but once the gauntlet was thrown, I couldn't back down. Its the Irish in me.
I stand before you today not as a supervillain, but as the son of a cop who somehow wound up on the wrong side of the law. I know it was wrong to contaminate the city's water supply, but in my defense I never meant to kill anybody. I just wanted everybody to lighten up. Things just got so weird and dark, I figured we could all go for a laugh. I guess I got the recipe wrong or added too much and for that I'm sorry. I throw myself on the mercy of the court. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, all I ask is for a little understanding.
Friday, November 11, 2011
#fridayflash The Companion's Lament
I should have known better to trust a madman with a box, but I was young and naïve. I believed this stranger when he fell out of the sky into my garden shed and claimed that he was an alien who could travel through time and space. He proved it by taking me roller skating on the Sea of Tranquility. Later, we dined upon Tang and freeze dried ice cream at the “authentic” Neil Armstrong Cafe. It was all quite convincing, really. And to be fair, he was an alien who could travel through time and space. Just not the particular one he claimed to be.
Impersonating a celebrity to the yokels who don't know any better is bad enough, but this piece of work took me for all that I had. He claimed that as a time traveler, he had no use for money. I quickly realized that was only because I was picking up the tab for everything. We were at a spa on the planet Midnight when the authorities finally caught up with us, and let me tell you, a weekend there is not cheap. The bastard is now serving three consecutive life sentences at Stormgate which is what he deserves but I was offered no restitution. I was left with only with a one way ticket back to Earth (who knows what year it will be when I arrive. I hope my Mum isn't too worried.) and an irrational hatred of bowties.
Impersonating a celebrity to the yokels who don't know any better is bad enough, but this piece of work took me for all that I had. He claimed that as a time traveler, he had no use for money. I quickly realized that was only because I was picking up the tab for everything. We were at a spa on the planet Midnight when the authorities finally caught up with us, and let me tell you, a weekend there is not cheap. The bastard is now serving three consecutive life sentences at Stormgate which is what he deserves but I was offered no restitution. I was left with only with a one way ticket back to Earth (who knows what year it will be when I arrive. I hope my Mum isn't too worried.) and an irrational hatred of bowties.
Friday, November 4, 2011
#fridayflash SWL seeks SWM
Me: A sexy barista by day, a naughty she-wolf by night, tired of the dog-eat-dog world of the lycanthrope dating scene.
You: A docile human longing to be dominated by an alpha female. You know your place in the pack and its whatever I say it is.
Prefer a young, white male. Must have a sense of humor and must love dogs. No kids.
You: A docile human longing to be dominated by an alpha female. You know your place in the pack and its whatever I say it is.
Prefer a young, white male. Must have a sense of humor and must love dogs. No kids.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
#FridayFlash Flash on the Borderlands
Its three for the price of one this week. A few months back I tied for second in Pseudopod's Flash Fiction Contest and today they released the podcast with the winning stories. I'm very pleased. You can hear "Escape," "Mother's Milk," and (mine) "Little Monster" here.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Paradigm Shift
Before, in the time when I didn't know you, the doors were locked tight.
The lights were off, the rooms were empty and no one came to call.
Everything was laid out neat as two pins, everything in its place.
The only sound was the clock dutifully ticking away the hours.
There were bars on all the windows and they did not open.
No intruders could get in past the alarms.
I was safe.
Now the windows are flung
open whenever you walk past, a breeze
blows through, it flings
all the doors open and the papers flutter around and lose
their order, and the dog barks and jumps to try to catch them but they fly by just
out of his reach, and someone turns on a light to see what the ruckus
is all about, and I am standing all alone in
chaos
The lights were off, the rooms were empty and no one came to call.
Everything was laid out neat as two pins, everything in its place.
The only sound was the clock dutifully ticking away the hours.
There were bars on all the windows and they did not open.
No intruders could get in past the alarms.
I was safe.
Now the windows are flung
open whenever you walk past, a breeze
blows through, it flings
all the doors open and the papers flutter around and lose
their order, and the dog barks and jumps to try to catch them but they fly by just
out of his reach, and someone turns on a light to see what the ruckus
is all about, and I am standing all alone in
chaos
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The Fairy's Gift #Fridayflash
The Fairy's Gift is a finalist in the "Uncovered" contest and appears at The Clarity of Night blog. Hope you enjoy!
Friday, July 16, 2010
Things Disney Didn't Tell you #fridayflash
1) I had the girl's best interests at heart, really. Her dad died, leaving us with nothing but this big drafty castle and three year's unpaid taxes. If I didn't get myself remarried and quick, how would we have made ends meet? She certainly wasn't going to go out and get a job.
2) True, I had that mirror tell me daily who was the fairest one of us all but it wasn't for vanity. I had to know who the competition was. I'm not getting any younger and the state was going to foreclose on the castle, leaving me and that ungrateful brat out on the streets.
3) The day that the mirror told me she was now the fairest one of us all, I knew that she would run off and marry the first thing in tight pants that came across her path and leave me to fend for myself. She resented me for making her help out around the house. “Father never made me scrub the floors,” she would whine. I didn't tell her that that was because her father was borrowing money almost as fast as he could gamble it away and could therefore afford maids to do the dirty work. Let the spoiled bitch keep her illusions, I'm not so heartless as to tell a young girl that the father she loved so much was lecherous, alcoholic gambling addict.
4) I never told that huntsman to take out to the woods to kill her. That is just an outright lie. I told him to take her out into the woods, yes, but kill her? What kind of monster do you think I am? I needed her temporarily out of the picture so I could find a new husband.
5) I don't care what that stupid mirror says, I still think I'm prettier. The little wench still had acne, for crying out loud. And don't get me started on those fat ankles.
6) A heart in a jeweled box? What kind of sick mind even comes up with this stuff? And this was supposed to be a kid's movie? Gross!
7) I wasn't there to poison the little twit. I just wanted to check up on her and make sure those dwarfs weren't getting handsy. If you ask me, a young girl living with seven men seems a little suspicious, but she seemed to be happy. She bitched and moaned when I wanted her to do something around the house but ask her to wait hand and foot on seven ugly old men and suddenly she's happy as a lark. She must not have been their type, if you catch my meaning.
8) If I told her once, I told her a million times: chew your food! You can't blame me if she choked on the apple.
9) You know, even though he was a boozer and womanizer, I still kind of miss the old bugger. We had a couple of laughs and I never met another man who could go all night and still be begging for more in the morning.
10) I hope the Prince and his zombie bride are happy together, I really do. But if she thinks I'm going to baby sit her snot nosed kids, she's got another thing coming. In fact, I think I'll sell the castle and move to Spain. I hear they like mature women there.
11) I have it on pretty good authority that her wedding dress shouldn't have been quite so snowy white, if you catch my meaning.
2) True, I had that mirror tell me daily who was the fairest one of us all but it wasn't for vanity. I had to know who the competition was. I'm not getting any younger and the state was going to foreclose on the castle, leaving me and that ungrateful brat out on the streets.
3) The day that the mirror told me she was now the fairest one of us all, I knew that she would run off and marry the first thing in tight pants that came across her path and leave me to fend for myself. She resented me for making her help out around the house. “Father never made me scrub the floors,” she would whine. I didn't tell her that that was because her father was borrowing money almost as fast as he could gamble it away and could therefore afford maids to do the dirty work. Let the spoiled bitch keep her illusions, I'm not so heartless as to tell a young girl that the father she loved so much was lecherous, alcoholic gambling addict.
4) I never told that huntsman to take out to the woods to kill her. That is just an outright lie. I told him to take her out into the woods, yes, but kill her? What kind of monster do you think I am? I needed her temporarily out of the picture so I could find a new husband.
5) I don't care what that stupid mirror says, I still think I'm prettier. The little wench still had acne, for crying out loud. And don't get me started on those fat ankles.
6) A heart in a jeweled box? What kind of sick mind even comes up with this stuff? And this was supposed to be a kid's movie? Gross!
7) I wasn't there to poison the little twit. I just wanted to check up on her and make sure those dwarfs weren't getting handsy. If you ask me, a young girl living with seven men seems a little suspicious, but she seemed to be happy. She bitched and moaned when I wanted her to do something around the house but ask her to wait hand and foot on seven ugly old men and suddenly she's happy as a lark. She must not have been their type, if you catch my meaning.
8) If I told her once, I told her a million times: chew your food! You can't blame me if she choked on the apple.
9) You know, even though he was a boozer and womanizer, I still kind of miss the old bugger. We had a couple of laughs and I never met another man who could go all night and still be begging for more in the morning.
10) I hope the Prince and his zombie bride are happy together, I really do. But if she thinks I'm going to baby sit her snot nosed kids, she's got another thing coming. In fact, I think I'll sell the castle and move to Spain. I hear they like mature women there.
11) I have it on pretty good authority that her wedding dress shouldn't have been quite so snowy white, if you catch my meaning.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Rejection Letter
They say its a good sign when the editor actually takes the time to tell you why they are rejecting a particular piece. I'm choosing to see this as a good sign.
Thank you for your submission to ******. I enjoyed the idea behind your story, but I felt that there was no resolution to the situation, and so it didn't seem like a complete story. For this reason, I'm afraid we won't be publishing this piece. Best of luck with it in the future.
Thank you for your submission to ******. I enjoyed the idea behind your story, but I felt that there was no resolution to the situation, and so it didn't seem like a complete story. For this reason, I'm afraid we won't be publishing this piece. Best of luck with it in the future.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Kindness of Strangers #fridayflash
Clyde was talking his buddies when he saw the boy slip below the surface. He waited a moment, then jumped in when the boy did not come back up. Diving to the bottom of the lake, he felt around, running his hands over mud and slimy rocks until they brushed against cloth. He grabbed the boy by his shirt and pulled. The boy kicked his legs wildly, twisted his body around and desperately clung to Clyde. He struggled to free himself from the boy's panicked flailing and rise toward the surface for air. The boy pulled at him like a rock, however, and the light above them grew dim as they both sank deeper.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Best Medicine #fridayflash
Carmella wrapped her lips around her fangs to take a puff from her cigarette, then exhaled the smoke through her clenched teeth while making a sssssssss sound. She shifted one pendulous breast over to the side to scratch an itch and looked out over the crowd. A group of werewolves were line dancing over in the corner, all with the same deadpan expression on their faces. Frank was doing his best to sing karaoke, but his vocal chords were beginning to rot away as well as his tongue so most of it came out as an unintelligible moan.
“I wish to hell that that zombie would shut his fly-trap,” said Vlad the bartender.
“Oh, cut him some slack. He's a good kid. Its not his fault he got bitten by the wrong kind of monster.”
Vlad snorted.
“You are such a softie Carmella. I don't know how you ever manage to get any blood off your victims. I imagine you loan them all a twenty and give them a ride home rather than helping them to shuffle off their mortal coils.”
“I do ok,” Carmella shrugged. Vlad polished some glasses and Carmella puffed on her cigarette some more while watching the line dancers. Frank finished warbling into the microphone and there was a sprinkling of applause from the crowd. One of the werewolves put a quarter in the jukebox and the line dancing began again, their boots clicking on the floor in unison and their eyes staring straight ahead at nothing.
“You sounded good up there,” Carmella said to Frank as he came up to the bar for a drink.
“Haannnks,” he groaned. “Eeii yiiiikh hat shoongh.”
“Yeah, its a real toe tapper,” Carmella said.
“Yoo ohkay? Yoo shound a yittle hown.”
“Eh, I'm ok I guess. Just a little moody. Eternity isn't quite what I thought it would be.”
“Hell me about hit,” Frank said, downed his shot and shuffled off the men's room.
Carmella crushed her cigarette into the ash tray and sighed.
“Hey Vlad, give me a bloody mary, would ya?”
“If you're down in the dumps, why don't you go out and get you the real thing? A nice plump virgin always lifts my spirits when I'm feeling down.”
“Nah, I don't think that would help much. Its just the futility of it all. Every night we come to this run down bar and do the same things over and over again. The same faces, the same songs, the same drinks. The thought of doing the same crap for over and over for the rest of eternity is just depressing.”
“I think its great. I can do whatever I want whenever I want to who ever I want. I don't have to worry about the consequences because I can't die.” Vlad held his hands out as if to emphasize his point and backed up a step. He slipped in a puddle of spilled beer and fell backwards onto one of the beer taps. It pierced him through the heart and he instantly turned into dust. Everyone in the bar stopped moving and talking all at once and turned to stare at the pile of dust that was formally Vlad. Carmella doubled over and began to laugh uncontrollably. She clutched her side with one hand and steadied herself on the bar with the other so that the force of her guffaws didn't knock her off her barstool. After several minutes she straightened up and wiped a tear from her eye.
“Ooh, thanks Vlad. I needed that.”
“I wish to hell that that zombie would shut his fly-trap,” said Vlad the bartender.
“Oh, cut him some slack. He's a good kid. Its not his fault he got bitten by the wrong kind of monster.”
Vlad snorted.
“You are such a softie Carmella. I don't know how you ever manage to get any blood off your victims. I imagine you loan them all a twenty and give them a ride home rather than helping them to shuffle off their mortal coils.”
“I do ok,” Carmella shrugged. Vlad polished some glasses and Carmella puffed on her cigarette some more while watching the line dancers. Frank finished warbling into the microphone and there was a sprinkling of applause from the crowd. One of the werewolves put a quarter in the jukebox and the line dancing began again, their boots clicking on the floor in unison and their eyes staring straight ahead at nothing.
“You sounded good up there,” Carmella said to Frank as he came up to the bar for a drink.
“Haannnks,” he groaned. “Eeii yiiiikh hat shoongh.”
“Yeah, its a real toe tapper,” Carmella said.
“Yoo ohkay? Yoo shound a yittle hown.”
“Eh, I'm ok I guess. Just a little moody. Eternity isn't quite what I thought it would be.”
“Hell me about hit,” Frank said, downed his shot and shuffled off the men's room.
Carmella crushed her cigarette into the ash tray and sighed.
“Hey Vlad, give me a bloody mary, would ya?”
“If you're down in the dumps, why don't you go out and get you the real thing? A nice plump virgin always lifts my spirits when I'm feeling down.”
“Nah, I don't think that would help much. Its just the futility of it all. Every night we come to this run down bar and do the same things over and over again. The same faces, the same songs, the same drinks. The thought of doing the same crap for over and over for the rest of eternity is just depressing.”
“I think its great. I can do whatever I want whenever I want to who ever I want. I don't have to worry about the consequences because I can't die.” Vlad held his hands out as if to emphasize his point and backed up a step. He slipped in a puddle of spilled beer and fell backwards onto one of the beer taps. It pierced him through the heart and he instantly turned into dust. Everyone in the bar stopped moving and talking all at once and turned to stare at the pile of dust that was formally Vlad. Carmella doubled over and began to laugh uncontrollably. She clutched her side with one hand and steadied herself on the bar with the other so that the force of her guffaws didn't knock her off her barstool. After several minutes she straightened up and wiped a tear from her eye.
“Ooh, thanks Vlad. I needed that.”
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Escape Artists Flash Fiction Contest
I submitted a flash to the Pseudopod (horror) portion of Escape Artists Flash Fiction contest. The first round of submissions has been posted on the forum and the winners will be chosen by the readers. I can't tell you which one is mine (the by-lines are taken off prior to posting) but I can tell you that mine is not in the first batch. If you like horror, you should check out the first group of flash stories. Also, submissions just opened up for the Escape Pod (sci-fi) portion of the contest. Details here. Winners of the contest get the usual Escape Artists publication (if its a podcast is it still called publication?) rate of $100 and their stories will be features on the podcast of the respective genre. Happy submitting.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Truth About the Birds and the Bees #fridayflash
“My Queen,” Bzedward said, lowering the front half of his body in an awkward bow.
“You may rise,” the Queen said, shaking her wings. Bzedward obeyed.
“I am honored that you would consider me for the mating flight.” It was hard for him to think straight this close to the Queen. Her scent filled the small chamber and it took all of his self-control to keep from mounting her where they stood.
“Turn,” the Queen said. Bzedward obeyed. “You are an acceptable specimen. The mating flight will be in one hour. Dismissed.”
“Thank you ma'am.” He bowed again and backed out of the chamber, careful not to turn his back to Her Highness. The next suitor stepped up to take his place.
“My Queen,” Bzedward heard him say before the chamber doors were shut behind him by the worker bees.
Bzedward rushed deeper into the hive to find Bzamy steadily scooping up wax and shaping it into honeycomb.
“I'm in! I'm taking part in the mating flight, at last!” Bzamy stopped scooping and turned to look at him.
“You can't!”
“What are you talking about? Of course I can, it what I'm made for. I'm a drone.” Bzamy stood staring at him for several moments, then scooped up a large mound of wax and angrily slapped in onto the honeycomb.
“You're right. Of course. No reason for you to stick around here. Go on some kamikaze sex mission. See if I care.”
“Bzamy! What's gotten into you?”
Bzamy only kneaded the wax with her tarsi with a little more force than necessary.
“Don't be like this. Come on, you know I can't help what I am.” Bzamy's wings drooped.
“Yeah, I know. I'm happy for you, really. I'm glad you got what you always wanted.” He reached out and caressed her wing with his. At first she kept still under his touch, but after a few moments she relaxed into the contact and rubbed her wing back and forth in response. “I'll miss you, you big jerk.”
“I'll miss you too. I'd better get going or else I'll miss the flight. Wouldn't want to be the last one there.” He flew off back in the direction of the Queen's chamber and she watched him for a moment then got back to work.
Bzedward arrived back at the chamber and waited impatiently for the flight to begin. Several other drones were in the chamber with him, all vibrating with nervous energy. Finally, just when he didn't think he could stand the suspense any more, there was a flurry of movement and suddenly they were all flying out of the hive and into the open air. His senses were immediately overloaded. A brilliant light filled his ommatidia and the scents of heady perfume of blooming flowers dazzled and confused him. Above all that, however, he could smell the Queen. Her scent drew him to her and he saw her beautiful form slowly spinning in mid-air. He rushed to her, mounted her and suddenly his whole being was suffused with joy. He was deep inside his Queen, filling her with his seed. She shuddered in ecstasy and then shook him off. He felt a rip in his groin and the pain made his wings falter. He began to fall to the ground in a tailspin. Ground, sky, ground, sky, over and over. As the sky came into view one last time, he saw the next drone remove his severed penis from the Queen and insert his own.
The soft grass broke his fall. The world still seemed to continue spinning even though he was on the ground. His vision was blurry and he was losing blood fast. He saw a yellow blur and felt the soft brush of wings on his face. Bzamy came into focus and he smiled at her.
“Thank you for coming to see me off,” he said weakly.
“Of course. I love you, you idiot.” Bzamy curled her glossa around his.
“Oh Bzamy,” he sighed and curled his glossa around her's in return. “You've made me so happy. Now that I've done my duty, I can tell you without shame that I love you too.” His head fell back, breaking their kiss. His eyes were glossy and empty. Bzamy cradled his head in her wings as one by one, the bodies of drones fell onto the grass all around them.
“You may rise,” the Queen said, shaking her wings. Bzedward obeyed.
“I am honored that you would consider me for the mating flight.” It was hard for him to think straight this close to the Queen. Her scent filled the small chamber and it took all of his self-control to keep from mounting her where they stood.
“Turn,” the Queen said. Bzedward obeyed. “You are an acceptable specimen. The mating flight will be in one hour. Dismissed.”
“Thank you ma'am.” He bowed again and backed out of the chamber, careful not to turn his back to Her Highness. The next suitor stepped up to take his place.
“My Queen,” Bzedward heard him say before the chamber doors were shut behind him by the worker bees.
Bzedward rushed deeper into the hive to find Bzamy steadily scooping up wax and shaping it into honeycomb.
“I'm in! I'm taking part in the mating flight, at last!” Bzamy stopped scooping and turned to look at him.
“You can't!”
“What are you talking about? Of course I can, it what I'm made for. I'm a drone.” Bzamy stood staring at him for several moments, then scooped up a large mound of wax and angrily slapped in onto the honeycomb.
“You're right. Of course. No reason for you to stick around here. Go on some kamikaze sex mission. See if I care.”
“Bzamy! What's gotten into you?”
Bzamy only kneaded the wax with her tarsi with a little more force than necessary.
“Don't be like this. Come on, you know I can't help what I am.” Bzamy's wings drooped.
“Yeah, I know. I'm happy for you, really. I'm glad you got what you always wanted.” He reached out and caressed her wing with his. At first she kept still under his touch, but after a few moments she relaxed into the contact and rubbed her wing back and forth in response. “I'll miss you, you big jerk.”
“I'll miss you too. I'd better get going or else I'll miss the flight. Wouldn't want to be the last one there.” He flew off back in the direction of the Queen's chamber and she watched him for a moment then got back to work.
Bzedward arrived back at the chamber and waited impatiently for the flight to begin. Several other drones were in the chamber with him, all vibrating with nervous energy. Finally, just when he didn't think he could stand the suspense any more, there was a flurry of movement and suddenly they were all flying out of the hive and into the open air. His senses were immediately overloaded. A brilliant light filled his ommatidia and the scents of heady perfume of blooming flowers dazzled and confused him. Above all that, however, he could smell the Queen. Her scent drew him to her and he saw her beautiful form slowly spinning in mid-air. He rushed to her, mounted her and suddenly his whole being was suffused with joy. He was deep inside his Queen, filling her with his seed. She shuddered in ecstasy and then shook him off. He felt a rip in his groin and the pain made his wings falter. He began to fall to the ground in a tailspin. Ground, sky, ground, sky, over and over. As the sky came into view one last time, he saw the next drone remove his severed penis from the Queen and insert his own.
The soft grass broke his fall. The world still seemed to continue spinning even though he was on the ground. His vision was blurry and he was losing blood fast. He saw a yellow blur and felt the soft brush of wings on his face. Bzamy came into focus and he smiled at her.
“Thank you for coming to see me off,” he said weakly.
“Of course. I love you, you idiot.” Bzamy curled her glossa around his.
“Oh Bzamy,” he sighed and curled his glossa around her's in return. “You've made me so happy. Now that I've done my duty, I can tell you without shame that I love you too.” His head fell back, breaking their kiss. His eyes were glossy and empty. Bzamy cradled his head in her wings as one by one, the bodies of drones fell onto the grass all around them.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Sirens at Dawn #fridayflash
Henry rolls off of me and lies on the other side of the bed, facing the wall. Cool air hits my sweaty skin and I shiver in the absence of his warmth. The mattress creaks as I get up and go into the bathroom, shut the door and turn on the shower. Once the water is as hot as I can stand it, I step in and let the water fall down on me, rivulets snaking their way down my back. The steam gets so thick that the miniature bottles of shampoo and conditioner sitting on the shelf are blurred and my skin turns pink. I turn off the water and notice that my skin still has Henry's scent of sweat and old cloth and the faint lingering smell of leather. A dark shadow in the mirror mimics my movements as I wrap a towel around me and re-enter into the room. Henry is now lying on his back and his wedding band is once again on his hand. He doesn't look at me as I sit on the bed. I watch water drip from my hair, forming clear beads on the polyester blend bedspread that slowly disappear leaving only a dark spot behind.
"I'm sorry," Henry says. "You know I love you, but…"
"No," I shake my head. "Leave all the 'buts' and 'if onlys' for another time. We have until morning to not be sorry and not be sad."
Henry looks at me and extends his arm out toward me. I lay down beside him and he pulls the towel off of me and throws it to the floor. We lie there, skin to skin, and watch the sky as it turns from black to grey to pink to golden.
"I'm sorry," Henry says. "You know I love you, but…"
"No," I shake my head. "Leave all the 'buts' and 'if onlys' for another time. We have until morning to not be sorry and not be sad."
Henry looks at me and extends his arm out toward me. I lay down beside him and he pulls the towel off of me and throws it to the floor. We lie there, skin to skin, and watch the sky as it turns from black to grey to pink to golden.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
#fridayflash Under the Sea
Maria tried to drown out the sound of her roommate knocking on the bathroom door by sinking further into the tub and letting her ears fall below the water line. She could hear the blood in her ears circulating with a woosh woosh woosh, but the now distant sound of knocking still came through.
“Maria, are you OK in there?” Judith called through the door. Maria closed her eyes and waited for her to leave. “You're going to be late for work.”
“I'm not going,” Maria shouted. “I hate that place. If one more person cusses me out, I might just slit my wrist. I can't take one more person blaming me for the fact that they have liability-only on their vehicle and now their car is totaled out and we're only paying for the other person's vehicle. I'm sick of being punished because people don't know how to read their fucking insurance policy.” Judith sighed.
“Ok. I'll tell them you're sick or something.” Maria tracked her movements through the sounds she made: the clicking of her heels which faded slightly with every step she took, the jangle of keys as she picked them up from the coffee table, and finally the soft thud of the door being closed.
Maria turned on the faucet again. Hot water slowly crept up to mix with the water that had grown lukewarm during her long soak. The water reached dangerously close to the lip of the tub, so she turned off the faucet and turned to float face down. She felt something brush her feet and opened her eyes in alarm to see a bed of sea kelp. Green tendrils rose up from the sea bed and swayed gently in the currents of the ocean. She looked up and through the murky water, she could still see tiled ceiling of her bathroom and the shower nozzle. A clown fish swam right by her nose. She swatted at it and gasped. Rather than choking as water filled her lungs, she breathed in the water quite comfortably. She grabbed the fish by the tail and let it whisk her through the kelp.
Once out of the kelp forest, they came upon a sprawling city populated by merpeople. Some swam around in a rush while others lingered in the streets to talk to one another, swishing their tales occasionally to keep themselves stable in the gentle currents. Maria let the clown fish go and swam closer to the city. A merman spotted her and swam over to her.
“Let me guess. Human?” Maria nodded. “I thought so. Why don't you follow me.” He swam off and Maria had difficulty keeping up as her spindly legs were no match for his fins. He stopped in front of a white building with columns on the front.
“Go in through the third floor entrance, third door on the right. Tell them you're new.”
“Thanks,” Maria said and he swam away. Maria followed his instructions and opened the door to see a middle aged mermaid swimming around the room filing papers. She turned when Maria swam in.
“Human?” she asked. Maria nodded. “You have a choice, you can go home to your human dwelling or you can become one of us and live here on the ocean floor.”
“This place is magical! Of course I choose to live here.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Maria could feel her legs fusing together into a fin. She swished her tail experimentally and was projected to the ceiling. The mermaid sighed.
“You'll get the hang of it. Now, we need to find you a job.”
“Job? Why?”
“Well how else do you think you're going to make a living, silly. You're in luck, a position just opened up this morning. A citizen had an unfortunate encounter with a motor boat while on his way to work. You wouldn't happen to have any experience in insurance, would you?”
“Maria, are you OK in there?” Judith called through the door. Maria closed her eyes and waited for her to leave. “You're going to be late for work.”
“I'm not going,” Maria shouted. “I hate that place. If one more person cusses me out, I might just slit my wrist. I can't take one more person blaming me for the fact that they have liability-only on their vehicle and now their car is totaled out and we're only paying for the other person's vehicle. I'm sick of being punished because people don't know how to read their fucking insurance policy.” Judith sighed.
“Ok. I'll tell them you're sick or something.” Maria tracked her movements through the sounds she made: the clicking of her heels which faded slightly with every step she took, the jangle of keys as she picked them up from the coffee table, and finally the soft thud of the door being closed.
Maria turned on the faucet again. Hot water slowly crept up to mix with the water that had grown lukewarm during her long soak. The water reached dangerously close to the lip of the tub, so she turned off the faucet and turned to float face down. She felt something brush her feet and opened her eyes in alarm to see a bed of sea kelp. Green tendrils rose up from the sea bed and swayed gently in the currents of the ocean. She looked up and through the murky water, she could still see tiled ceiling of her bathroom and the shower nozzle. A clown fish swam right by her nose. She swatted at it and gasped. Rather than choking as water filled her lungs, she breathed in the water quite comfortably. She grabbed the fish by the tail and let it whisk her through the kelp.
Once out of the kelp forest, they came upon a sprawling city populated by merpeople. Some swam around in a rush while others lingered in the streets to talk to one another, swishing their tales occasionally to keep themselves stable in the gentle currents. Maria let the clown fish go and swam closer to the city. A merman spotted her and swam over to her.
“Let me guess. Human?” Maria nodded. “I thought so. Why don't you follow me.” He swam off and Maria had difficulty keeping up as her spindly legs were no match for his fins. He stopped in front of a white building with columns on the front.
“Go in through the third floor entrance, third door on the right. Tell them you're new.”
“Thanks,” Maria said and he swam away. Maria followed his instructions and opened the door to see a middle aged mermaid swimming around the room filing papers. She turned when Maria swam in.
“Human?” she asked. Maria nodded. “You have a choice, you can go home to your human dwelling or you can become one of us and live here on the ocean floor.”
“This place is magical! Of course I choose to live here.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Maria could feel her legs fusing together into a fin. She swished her tail experimentally and was projected to the ceiling. The mermaid sighed.
“You'll get the hang of it. Now, we need to find you a job.”
“Job? Why?”
“Well how else do you think you're going to make a living, silly. You're in luck, a position just opened up this morning. A citizen had an unfortunate encounter with a motor boat while on his way to work. You wouldn't happen to have any experience in insurance, would you?”
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Officially
"Hey man," I said as I opened the door to let Pip in.
"What's up?" He plopped himself down on her couch and rested his hands on top of his head, elbows cocked outwards.
"Not much, just came back from your funeral." I sat in the recliner facing the couch and put my feet on the coffee table.
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
"It sucked. You would have hated it. Some preacher kept going on about how you were right with god before you died and about how you'd be there waiting for us when it was our time."
"Probably the preacher from my parents' church. You didn't stand up and call bullshit?"
"No, your mom and girlfriend seemed to be eating it up and they technically outrank me."
"That's not true." Pip picked up an empty beer bottle from the coffee table and rolls it between the palms of his hands. I watch him and try not to think about how I'll never feel those hands running down my bare back again.
"So what are you going to do now that you're officially dead? I mean, isn't there some sort of light you should be moving towards?"
"Not so far. Maybe there is no light. Maybe they won't let me up. Maybe I'm stuck here. Who the hell knows?"
"As long as you're stuck here, you might as well stop by and see me sometime."
He stops spinning the bottle and looks up at me.
"Absolutely."
The bottle that he had been holding a moment ago falls to the coffee table and shatters.
"What's up?" He plopped himself down on her couch and rested his hands on top of his head, elbows cocked outwards.
"Not much, just came back from your funeral." I sat in the recliner facing the couch and put my feet on the coffee table.
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
"It sucked. You would have hated it. Some preacher kept going on about how you were right with god before you died and about how you'd be there waiting for us when it was our time."
"Probably the preacher from my parents' church. You didn't stand up and call bullshit?"
"No, your mom and girlfriend seemed to be eating it up and they technically outrank me."
"That's not true." Pip picked up an empty beer bottle from the coffee table and rolls it between the palms of his hands. I watch him and try not to think about how I'll never feel those hands running down my bare back again.
"So what are you going to do now that you're officially dead? I mean, isn't there some sort of light you should be moving towards?"
"Not so far. Maybe there is no light. Maybe they won't let me up. Maybe I'm stuck here. Who the hell knows?"
"As long as you're stuck here, you might as well stop by and see me sometime."
He stops spinning the bottle and looks up at me.
"Absolutely."
The bottle that he had been holding a moment ago falls to the coffee table and shatters.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Chained
She left me on a Tuesday afternoon and by Sunday morning I couldn't stand the pain any more, so I took out my heart and chained it to the wall. It watched me with its big doe eyes as I moved about my apartment, suddenly without a care in the world. It was amazing how much I could get done without the nagging ache of my heart to slow me down. I was able to clean up the mess that had accumulated that week, take some old clothes down to the Goodwill which I'd been meaning to do for ages. I went down to the coffee shop and read the newspaper while drinking a latte as I used to do all the time without even once thinking about how this was where we had met. As I got into my bed that night, I congratulated myself for my brilliant idea and happily settled in for what I was sure was going to be the first good night's sleep in days. I could get no rest, however, as all through the night my heart whispered her name and it in the silence of the night it was as loud as an El Train running through my head.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Super Hero
Note: This is dedicated to a friend who is deploying to the Middle East this week.
“Oh, please someone help my Mr. Bigglesworth!” cried Mrs. Markowitz. Mr. Bigglesworth was meowing forlornly from his tree limb as he was too scared to jump down from such a height but was quite ready for his dinner. Suddenly he was scooped up in a flash of motion and placed safely in Mrs. Markowitz's arms.
“Oh thank you,” she exclaimed to the young man who was standing before her who looked rather pleased with himself. “How can I ever repay you?”
“You don't owe me a thing, ma'am. Its my job,” he said. “Afterall, I'm a superhero.” He put his hands on his hips so that the emblem on his chest would be prominently displayed and grinned widely making his teeth glint in the sunlight.
“You are?” Mrs. Markowitz eyed him skeptically.
“Yeah.” His posture sagged. “Can't you tell? I'm wearing my underwear outside of my pants.”
“Oh, I thought that was a fashion statement.”
“No! It's the superhero uniform. Also, I have my superhero initials on my chest.”
“MF? What does that stand for? Mighty Flash? Master Force?”
“Mr. Faulkner.”
“That's not a very good superhero name. Why do you call yourself that?”
“Because its my name.”
“Oh. Well thanks, I guess...”
“Hark! Another kitty cat is in trouble,” he declared and flew off once again.
“What a weird, wonderful guy,” Mrs. Markowitz said. Mr. Bigglesworth meowed in agreement and they went inside for dinner.
“Oh, please someone help my Mr. Bigglesworth!” cried Mrs. Markowitz. Mr. Bigglesworth was meowing forlornly from his tree limb as he was too scared to jump down from such a height but was quite ready for his dinner. Suddenly he was scooped up in a flash of motion and placed safely in Mrs. Markowitz's arms.
“Oh thank you,” she exclaimed to the young man who was standing before her who looked rather pleased with himself. “How can I ever repay you?”
“You don't owe me a thing, ma'am. Its my job,” he said. “Afterall, I'm a superhero.” He put his hands on his hips so that the emblem on his chest would be prominently displayed and grinned widely making his teeth glint in the sunlight.
“You are?” Mrs. Markowitz eyed him skeptically.
“Yeah.” His posture sagged. “Can't you tell? I'm wearing my underwear outside of my pants.”
“Oh, I thought that was a fashion statement.”
“No! It's the superhero uniform. Also, I have my superhero initials on my chest.”
“MF? What does that stand for? Mighty Flash? Master Force?”
“Mr. Faulkner.”
“That's not a very good superhero name. Why do you call yourself that?”
“Because its my name.”
“Oh. Well thanks, I guess...”
“Hark! Another kitty cat is in trouble,” he declared and flew off once again.
“What a weird, wonderful guy,” Mrs. Markowitz said. Mr. Bigglesworth meowed in agreement and they went inside for dinner.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Suffer the Little Children
Nurse Rodgers held the child in her arms as he gurgled and tried to squirm out of his swaddling. She worked the graveyard shift, watching over the little angels in the maternity ward. This little angel had been born with crack in its system. Not its fault, of course, but she knew he was destined to become a monster - a murderer or rapist or just another junkie robbing good, honest folk for his next fix. It would be better to keep him like this, pure and innocent. She put her hand over his nose and mouth, swaying and humming a lullaby while she waited for him to stop squirming then laid his limp body back into his cradle, pleased to know that he was on his way to heaven now to be with her other little angels.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Indulgences
“Right!” Martin shouted to his wife. “I'm off for a bit.”
“You'd better not be going to that club,” she shouted back from the kitchen. “I'm telling you Martin, I can't live like this.”
“Oh lay off, I'll be back in a little while.” He left without waiting for a reply, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. He drove across the small town where he and his wife had grew up, went to school, and married right after graduation. Things had been quiet, peaceful, until Indulgences was built on the city limits. He'd been going there every night since it opened. After all, he worked hard all day and a man needs to blow off steam, no matter what the wife says.
He pulled into the gravel lot and parked his beat up pickup next to all the other beat up pickups and went inside. There were a few familiar faces, which he politely nodded to, but no one was there for conversation. They were there for the show. He sat down at a table near the stage and ordered a scotch on the rocks from the somewhat homely waitress. As she went to put in his order, the lights dimmed and the music started playing. He'd arrived just in time.
A spotlight lit up the stage and the curtains drew back to reveal a row of dancers wearing nothing but top hats and tap shoes. They began to move their furry boddies in perfect unison with one another in an intricate dance routine that would have been more at home on a Broadway stage than in a smoky bar in the sticks. The waitress brought his drink and he leaned back, scotch in hand.
“You tap-dancing hamsters,” he said with a grin. “You rock my world, with your little blurry feet."
Inspired by Sleep Talking Man
“You'd better not be going to that club,” she shouted back from the kitchen. “I'm telling you Martin, I can't live like this.”
“Oh lay off, I'll be back in a little while.” He left without waiting for a reply, letting the screen door slam shut behind him. He drove across the small town where he and his wife had grew up, went to school, and married right after graduation. Things had been quiet, peaceful, until Indulgences was built on the city limits. He'd been going there every night since it opened. After all, he worked hard all day and a man needs to blow off steam, no matter what the wife says.
He pulled into the gravel lot and parked his beat up pickup next to all the other beat up pickups and went inside. There were a few familiar faces, which he politely nodded to, but no one was there for conversation. They were there for the show. He sat down at a table near the stage and ordered a scotch on the rocks from the somewhat homely waitress. As she went to put in his order, the lights dimmed and the music started playing. He'd arrived just in time.
A spotlight lit up the stage and the curtains drew back to reveal a row of dancers wearing nothing but top hats and tap shoes. They began to move their furry boddies in perfect unison with one another in an intricate dance routine that would have been more at home on a Broadway stage than in a smoky bar in the sticks. The waitress brought his drink and he leaned back, scotch in hand.
“You tap-dancing hamsters,” he said with a grin. “You rock my world, with your little blurry feet."
Inspired by Sleep Talking Man
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